Things Aren't Always As They Seem
by Rose Stetson
Summary: COMPLETE! How vulnerable did Sam and Jack get after Daniel died in Season 5? Look for a companion piece Words Cannot Describe if you liked this! There will be more poetry.
1. Jack

"_**Things Aren't Always As They Seem"**_

_Set: After Daniel dies. (SORRY Daniel Fans! Call this a Daniel Tribute) I just want to show all of the characters' vulnerability because the show didn't satisfy my expectation of emotion. You're simply left with the idea that they had a hard time, until they come into situations where something happens to force them to come to terms with it._

_Spoilers: "Meridian" Season 5_

The alarm went off, the sound amplified a hundred times by his hangover. Damn! Jack thought. Even when I'm drunk I set that stupid thing.

As a teenager, he had always been able to turn his alarm off, roll over and go back to sleep- a habit that had irritated his mother and frustrated his father. They had both been very pleased when the Air Force drilled that particular habit out of him.

Reasons 1 and 2 for getting drunk, he thought miserably.

Ten years ago, during his tour in the Gulf, Jack's father, Jack Sr., had died of a heart attack. Then, five years later, a month before Charlie died, his mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Shortly after his return from the Abydos mission, she had died on the anniversary of his father's death.

Thought they had separated just previously to his mother's death, Sara had attended the funeral. Their pain for Charlie's loss was still raw, and it was the last time they cried together before the divorce.

Reasons 3 and 4 for getting drunk, he thought bitterly.

He continued to lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Man, if he was a wreck now after being involved in the Stargate program for a little over five years, what would he have been like if he hadn't been involved in the program?

As hard as he tried to forget, he knew that the Stargate program and that mission to Abydos had saved his life. More accurately, stubborn archaeologist, Dr. Daniel Jackson had saved his life.

Reason 5 for getting drunk, he thought darkly.

Jack rolled over in the Queen-sized bed and hit the pillow next to him. "Dammit, Daniel! Don't you do anything you're told?"

The tears he had been hiding for the past six weeks fell, unbidden from his eyes.

"Dammit! Why me? Why'd you ask me to stop Jacob? You'd still be here if you hadn't asked me to do it!"

Daniel's words haunted his dreams nearly every night. "Jack, let me go. It's my time."

Jack looked at the digital clock. It read 6:45 am. He placed his palms against his temples, hoping to eradicate the pounding in his head, but he knew he would be a fool if he didn't admit, at least to himself, that the pain that plagued and tormented him the most was the loss of his unlikely friend and colleague.

He sat up, kicking the comforter from off of his legs. Almost on autopilot, he stood and walked into the bathroom to get in the shower. According to the base psychologist, normalcy and routine would begin the recovery from the "psychological trauma" brought on by the loss of a friend and comrade in the line of duty.

He hated that phrase. It was an elegant way of saying that he was, in essence, the sacrificial lamb.

Calm down, Jack, he scolded himself. You'll work yourself into excitement, and Doc Fraiser told you to keep an eye on your blood pressure because of Dad's heart attack and Jordan's angioplasty.

Jordan O'Neill was Jack's brother, only eighteen months younger than himself, and similar to Jack in nearly every way, including physical activity and diet. Even so, six months ago, Jordan had felt pain down his right side and found his way to the hospital immediately. If he had ignored the warning signs, he would have had a heart attack within a week or two.

Jack sighed. Maybe he would go to work today, just to make sure that the world was safe . . . for the moment anyway.

TBC

_Please comment on it! It's my first real angst story, and who knows, maybe it's awful! I really won't know until you R&R!_


	2. Samantha

Thanks for all of the great comments! Keep 'em up! I didn't realize how much you guys would like it!

Chapter 2 

Samantha Carter was working feverishly to study the naquadria acquired from Kelowna. Technically, she was still on leave, but she had gotten into a dull, lifeless routine, one of the things that she absolutely hated about being off-duty.

Despite the busyness of the base, Sam felt so lonely. She was the only member of SG-1 on base. Teal'c had requested to temporarily join any team going off world, and General Hammond had complied. Jack was off-base doing who knows what. And Daniel was . . .

Hot tears stung her eyes while a lump formed in her throat.

"Dr. Carter?"

Samantha swallowed and turned around to see Jonas Quinn standing in her doorway.

"Yes?"

"Do you want any help studying the naquadria? I could . . ."

Samantha shook her head, interrupting him. "Thank you for your offer, Jonas, but I'm just running some preliminary tests on its properties. It will be another few days before I'm ready to experiment freely with it."

Jonas nodded, seeing that Sam just wanted more time alone or perhaps more accurately, away from him. "Well, I'm here if you need anything."

As he left, she went and closed the door. Then, she let the tears fall. She thought back to the first time she met Daniel. A slight smile came to her lips. After fully ignoring him in order to look at the DHD, she went over and outstretched her hand in friendship. Daniel's eyes showed his uncertainty about her, and she had tried not to laugh.

"You must be Dr. Jackson. I'm Dr. Samantha Carter."

"I thought you preferred Captain," came Jack's dry response.

Sam had ignored him, unwilling to allow anything to spoil her excitement at being on another planet for the first time.

When Daniel mentioned the Theory of the Expanding Universe, Sam had smiled more broadly than even she thought possible.

"I knew I'd like you. . ."

Sam wiped the tears unceremoniously from her cheeks. Those words had sparked a five-year friendship full of adventure, jest, tenderness, and fun.

She couldn't help but laugh when she remembered when the archaeological and scientific research departments had teamed up to study the apparent time capsule.

_The young lieutenant who was documenting the research seemed to lose his focus anytime he got near Sam. She had asked for a recording of the proceedings, and Daniel turned to her. "I think someone has a crush on you."_

_She had chuckled. However, their laughter was cut short when the blushing lieutenant announced. "We're recording."_

_She turned a chastising gaze upon Daniel who only shrugged. "Oops!"_

Another memory flooded over her. That one was more painful than the first.

_It had been when the Tollans had been held in refugee status on the base. Narim had come and declared his love for her. They were about to kiss when Daniel rushed in._

"_Whoops!" he said, breaking the moment. "I just needed to do something."_

_Sam had nodded, accepting with a dull resentment the interruption._

"_And I, uh, I need your help." Daniel said, pointing to her._

A sad smile crept over her face. Daniel just had that uncanny habit of showing up at the wrong time, but that was partly due to his almost absent-minded professor personality when he was absorbed in the study of the ancient cultures he so loved.

And who could forget the time that he had been infected by the virus from the Shadows on the opposite side of the Land of Light? Of course, he would not have contracted the disease if he hadn't been so tenderhearted, unable to leave Melosha to the harsh primitives that stalked that part of the planet.

There was a knock on the door. "Carter! It's me! Let me in!"

She sighed, dabbed a tissue across her eyes and cheeks to eliminate the evidence of her tears. "Come in!"

There was a jiggle of the handle. "Carter! It's locked!"

She walked over and opened the door. "Sorry, Sir. The new auto-lock system must be on."

O'Neill walked into the lab. Sam had to restrain a gasp. He looked the way she felt: crappy.

"What brings you here?" She asked.

"I don't know," he said. "I just assumed I'd find you here."

His face was drawn, making him look almost ten years older than he was. His eyes looked bloodshot, evidence of recently being drunk. His hangover was also evidenced in his sensitivity to the fluorescent light.

"I meant what brought you to the base?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

He rotated his forefinger around his temple, looking down at the ground. "Too many demons there, I guess."

She nodded, understanding completely what he meant.

"So, playing with your new toy as usual, I suppose."

"The naquadria will be an excellent addition to our discoveries."

He began to rifle through the items on and surrounding her desk.

"Carter, when is Teal'c due to return?"

"In about two days, I think."

"Good." Jack stopped fidgeting. "Just enough time to get SG-1 back on active duty."

"Sir, don't you think it's a little early?"

"Carter, I don't want to keep living like this. It's killing me."

Again, tears threatened to spill. Jack looked up and saw her fight to control her emotions. He mentally kicked himself. That was a stupid choice of words, O'Neill, he thought.

Without a second thought, he gathered her into his arms. As he did so, Samantha let the tears unabashedly fall.

"Shh. Sam, it's going to be all right."

Her wrenching sobs required her to gulp and gasp for air. "I hate despising my job, Jack!"

He ran his fingers through her hair, while her head rested on his shoulder, but his thoughts were a million miles away. "So do I, Samantha. So do I."

TBC

_Hit the little button and tell me what you think! PLEASE!_


	3. Unknown Poet is it true?

_Thanks for all the reviews! I love hearing from you! Keep it up! _

_Just a note: I wrote everything in this story. I might not own all the characters, but the story and any other surprises you might find, are mine!

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A couple of hours later, Samantha walked into Jack's office. She did not find him there, and decided to write him a note expressing her gratitude for his sympathy and soft shoulder.

As she rummaged around his desk, looking for a piece of paper on which to write her message, she came across a small, leather-bound journal. Unable to resist, she opened it. On the first page, she found a poem.

_When I look upon your face,__  
I cannot find a trace  
__Of imperfection or of fear,__  
Nor of one single shining tear._

_When I look upon your smile,__  
I see no hint of guile,__  
But only loving tenderness__  
When I your lips at last caress._

_When I look into your eyes,__  
I cannot think of lies__  
But of all the lovely things__  
Like oceans, lakes and springs._

_When I look into your heart,__  
I find deeper meaning in the art__  
That makes you always yearn to search__  
To find one more near whom to perch._

Sam quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. The poem was so lovely. She flipped through the pages, eagerly searching for some clue as to the identity of the mysterious poet, since it couldn't possibly be the Colonel.

Almost immediately, she fell upon another poem that told her all that she needed to know.

_When there upon one knee I fell,__  
I cannot even start to tell__  
How heart and mind and soul were there__  
To see how truly you did care._

_Your answer filled me with delight!__  
At last, I felt like that strong knight__  
Who with his faithful steed in tow__  
Did slay the beast that lay below._

_And now upon my breast you lie,__  
Forever there in my mind's eye,__  
To help me find the strength I lack__  
To run one lap around the track._

_O Sara, Sara, o my wife!__  
To thee I give my heart: my life!__  
O May our love forever be__  
Eternal like the sands and sea._

While this poem was lovelier than the first, Samantha could not seem to cry because she was too stunned.

Colonel Jack O'Neill, hardened soldier and commanding officer, was at heart a poet?

Curiosity propelled her to the last entry. In stunned silence, she read the poem dated only today.

_To My Dear Departed Friend:__  
Our journeys should not have to end.__  
Though through the crashing glass you lay__  
To save them from their Judgment Day __  
O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes should not have sung__  
For you, but for my life instead have rung.__  
But in my heart you'll always stay__  
Until I come with thanks to say:__  
My friend in times of sorrow, sickness and of strife,__  
You've been there; now I owe you my life.__  
May God be with you 'til we meet again,__  
I'll forever think of you 'til then._

She stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks. Almost reverently, she closed the book and set it back on the desk.

As she turned to leave, she found herself face-to-face with her CO.

"Did you need something, Carter?" He asked as she jumped.

"I just wanted to thank you for being there, Colonel, you know when I was . . ."

He nodded, "How did you like what you were reading?"

She blushed. "Sir, I didn't mean to. . . Sir, I'm sorry."

He walked toward her, unsure of whether to be amused or angry. "Carter, you didn't answer my question. How did you like it?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, sir, besides the fact that I never thought of you as a poet . . ."

He chuckled. "You don't really expect me to admit that, do you?"

She smiled. "Sir, it was beautiful. Especially the last one. It was a real tribute to Daniel."

Jack's smile vanished, and pain coursed through him like the energy from a staff weapon. "There was only one poem harder to write than that one."

Sam looked at him, puzzled. He picked up the journal and flipped to one of its pages. He handed the book silently to her.

She looked at him. "Sir, should I read it aloud?"

He nodded, sitting down at the desk with his back turned to her.

"_The sound of a shot __  
Heard so often before__  
Explodes red and hot;__  
It's a deafening roar._

_I raced up the stairs;__  
The sight still makes me ill.__  
You were caught unawares,__  
And your body was still._

_The nightmares won't end!__  
My gun lay nearby!__  
My buddy, my friend!__  
O God, tell me why!_

_For days, I just sat,__  
While Death loomed overhead.__  
I fingered your hat,__  
No more tears could be shed._

_O Charlie, my son,__  
Guide my actions with love,__  
For my life you have won__  
Watch me, Son, from above."_

Sam finished reading and tears streamed down her cheeks once more. "Sir, when I heard, I . . ."

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry."

He nodded absently.

She turned to leave, placing the book beside him.

"Carter?"

She turned again. "Yes, Sir?"

"Do you realize that you're the first one?" He asked, not bothering to turn and face her.

"Sir, I won't tell any of the guys about it. Your secret's safe with me. Oh, and I'm privileged to be the first colleague you've shared your talents with."

She left, and Jack looked at the little leather-bound book. "No, Carter," he whispered to himself. "You're the first one ever."

He stared at a recent photo of SG-1, sitting next to an old family photo with Sara and Charlie. "Not even Sara."

And for the first time in six weeks, Jack felt a sliver of hope.

_

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All right, that's all folks! Let me know what you think! Hope you enjoyed it!_


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